


Unspoekn

by Lovethewinchestersinc4



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cousins, F/M, Family, Love, R Plus L Equals J, Songfic, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25108462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovethewinchestersinc4/pseuds/Lovethewinchestersinc4
Summary: Sometimes love is unspoken.
Relationships: Jon Snow & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 30
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

_Drunk up all the wine on the back porch_

_Listen to the rain through the willow trees_

_Must have been something in the melody_

_Tried to play it off but your eyes roll_

_I know I said things I didn't mean_

_We've never been good at apologies_

Tormund once told Sansa, how years ago, Jon had a wildling lover.

With fire hair just like Sansa's, he said to her. Wild as a wildling should be, fierce and smart and strong. A real wildling warrior.

Ygritte.

And Jon fell in love with her, and hadn't loved one after her in many, many years.

Sansa then could understand, what Jon saw in the Dragon Queen.

Daenerys Targaryen might not have fire hair, but she had fire indeed. She might not have had an arrow and a bow in her hands, but she was a strong indeed.

If this was what Jon loved in women – strong women – then Sansa could understand what he'd seen in her.

But the Dragon Queen was no warrior like Ygritte and Sansa herself.

She was powerful and ruthless.

She was a new Cersei Lannister replacing the old one. The Dragon Queen walked around the halls of Winterfell as if she owned it, and maybe by courtesy she did, but it was all just a play, a game.

Sansa's turned good at playing games of thrones, as she had learned it from the best of men.

"The Dothraki, by nature, respect power. The more powerful you are, they are more likely to follow you," Lord Tyrion explained to her once, while they were sitting in a feast in the great hall after a long, tiring discussion of the Night King in which again every word Sansa said had been ignored.

Sansa had been wondering indeed why the barbarians had been following the Dragon Queen.

It would be naïve to think they would simply follow their golden queen for her status as the widow of a Khal.

"And Daenerys is powerful. She's rode her dragon and asked them if they would kill her enemies in their iron suites and wreck stone houses of every men on their way to the throne." Tyrion had known Sansa well, she supposed.

Their little time as a married couple before she abandoned him to suffer the trial of Joffrey's death – she was not ashamed to say she had not felt guilty for doing so – "You seem very enthusiastic to speak about the Dragon Queen's promise to a tribe of barbarians."

"I do not agree with everything the Queen does."

"You are her right hand."

"And it's my job to guide her, not follow her." Tyrion's words had already been slurry from ale. Perhaps it was his job to guide her and not to follow her, but Sansa grew up among enough monsters to recognize that in a few weeks, month, let it be a whole winter, and Tyrion could never say such things without committing treason to his beloved queen.

He wasn't the only one drunk.

Sansa had spent enough time with Jon to see when he was.

No else would notice, ever the subtle Jon. Even when drunk he was polite and quiet. But his walk was not as steady as always, his eyes darted from the Dragon Queen to Sansa herself as she was talking to Tyrion.

There were so many things she wished to tell him, to Jon, but she had long given up on the brother – man – she started loving, ever since he left for Dragon Stone and gave away her north to a strange queen.

So, she'd look back at him, their eyes locking on each other for only a minute, before she'd turn away from him.

And then he would disappear in the crowed until she'd find him sitting outside, away from the people and the party (he was never really a guy of gatherings, that anybody would know), and Sansa just couldn't, couldn't help herself.

"It's freezing in the rain like that, Jon. Get inside." She would do her best to have her voice lack any emotions.

Be strong and fierce, like his fire hair lover. Even though she could never be said fire hair lover herself.

"In a minute."

"You'll turn into an iceberg, Jon. We'll have to send your queen's dragon to melt you." Sansa herself didn't know if she attempted to make a joke or was just simply looking for a way to get to him one more time.

Jon stood up abruptly. He stood close to her, his dark, pretty hair almost touching her face. Having him so close to her, the smell of the bad ale didn't even bother her.

"You'd like that, would you not?"

"Like what?"

"You'd like have me dead, so you would not be bound to the word I so graciously gave in order to save you, would you not?" His words were as venomous as hers used to be when she was sober. Only Jon was drunk, else he would just sit quietly and take everything she had to say. She hated when he didn't answer, when he closed his eyes and just waited, as if getting into a fight with her wasn't even worth it.

She liked the nights he was drunk.

"I would not want you to be dead, Jon. You are my family. But I do find myself in Godswood praying that the word you gave me will mean just as half as the word you gave her." She bit; her words as cold as the rain turning ice around them.

Jon shock his head, turning away from her. Instantly, she missed the heat of his body against the coldness. They both were already wet to their bones, but Sansa long ago admitted to herself that Jon made her feel warm inside in a way he shouldn't.

"You don't understand."

"You're right. I do not understand how a love for one woman can make you take the north and put it in her hands, this mad queen. The north that is rightfully ours, the Starks-"

"I am not a Stark." He growled. "And the north isn't mine to begin with."

She ignored the pang of a stab in her chest. Be strong and fierce like a wildling.

"If it isn't yours, how could you give it to her just because you love her?" Jon looked at her but said nothing. Here it was again, the moment when he will close his eyes and just breath, and she knew she will never get the answered she deserves.

Anger burning her throats, she tuned away from him yet again.

Under the sound of the snow and winds, the trees rustling,

She could almost think she heard him whisper,

"I bend the knee and gave away the north because I love you."

But she must have dreamt it.

***

_Bullets from the tongue always hurt more_

_We both know the heart's not bulletproof_

_I know where to aim when I want to_

_And maybe we're not perfect now_

_But I know we will figure this out_

"You bend the knee and gave away the north because you love her." Sansa's words, her harsh, unfazed voice still made Jon roll in his bed at night without even having inch of tiredness.

They were a stab to his chest; worse than any knife he had taken before.

Sansa must have known it, seen it in his eyes, he was never good at hiding his feelings from her.

But she would never say sorry for hurting him.

He wouldn't say sorry for hurting her either.

"I bend the knee because she has dragons, and to remind you, we needed those dragons!"

But his words fell on deaf ears.

Sansa hated him for bending the knee, hated him for doing what was necessary.

Jon hated Sansa because she didn't understand.

"It was our sister Aria that killed the Night king, all your Dragon Queen has ever done was to give him another weapon to use against us." But how could he possibly know that, when he left for Dragon Stone in the hopes of finding something, anything, that will save his people – Sansa's people – from death?

And Aria wasn't even their sister. Only hers. 

_I bend the knee and gave away the north because I love you._

"If not for her dragons, Sansa, more men then you could ever imagine would have ended up dead, at least some of them are alive-"

"And now she's marching them, my men, in her campaign to conquer the throne, and they will die for her, Jon, their Queen?" Sansa asked, her voice filled with venom.

It was always like that, lately. They could never seem to agree on everything, only fight. Jon closed his eyes.

Sometimes around Sansa, he forgot how to breath.

"I gave her my word, Sansa."

"You gave me your word too but nevertheless; you don't seem through with it as you are with your Dragon Queen. You are a fool to love her, Jon. She is as mad as her father." Sansa, ever so smart.

Of course, she was right.

Jon wished he was as a fool as she thought him to be.

_I bend the knee and gave away the north because I love you._

But it was Jon's burden to carry, and his alone.

He could never put his family in such danger by admitting the truth. Daenerys already started losing her trust in him.

Sometimes, late at night after everybody were asleep, Jon would amuse himself with thoughts about him and Sansa as secret lovers.

But he would never really consider it, because he knew Sansa deserved so much better. She deserved everything; it was why he had to become one of the many villains in her story.

"I did not break my word to you, Sansa, nor will I ever will." But it didn't matter any longer, not really. He was now, after all, the bastard brother whom she gave her trust in, and betrayed her to a beautiful, ruthless queen.

"You gave your word to me, to protect me, and help me gain the north as it is ours by right. Is it not now that your Dragon Queen has taken you to her bed?" Another knife, another wound to his chest.

_I bend the knee and gave away the north because I love you._

But she would never know. She would never understand.

As if expecting his silence as an approval to her words, Sansa turned away from him, fire burning in her eyes, and the lights in their war room made it look as if her eyes were the same color as her fire hair.

"Sansa…"

But she didn't turn around.

She never did.

***

_So just, lay close to me_

_We don't have to say sorry_

_Your touch still speaks_

_Words are too heavy_

_So, don't just breath_

_Even though we feel broken_

_Sometimes love is unspoken_

The night before he was due leaving for the south, Jon found himself laying his head on Sansa's door when Brienne herself was already asleep, as if hoping she would open the door and expect is unspoken apology.

Should he apologize?

Sansa made him feel like he should. He knew – thought – he was doing the right thing, by giving Daenerys the Iron Throne she so wanted.

She'd be focused on her conquest, and forget all about the north, from Sansa.

He knew the Dragon Queen he once had spark of likeness to think the Stark Lady as a threat, and she was right to think that. Sansa was far different then the girl she used to be. She was even different from the girl who came to him at Castle Black, beaten and broken in body but never in spirit.

_It was our sister Aria who killed the Night King._

But Jon stood with Bran in front of Lyanna's tomb and knew she wasn't a sister anymore.

And then, stood in the war room and listened as the Dragon Queen spoke of marching their men – Sansa's men – south, so she could deal with all her threats to the Iron Throne.

Please, take as many as you want to the south, he wanted to say to her.

Just leave.

He didn't come to her bed since before the battle against the Night King, but Daenerys didn't expect him anymore.

He played it off as an excuse and said to her he will never feel the same now that he knows they share blood. Whether she knew it to be a lie or not, she simply gave him that look with her cold, cold eyes and said she would not expect him to her bed again.

Deep down he could breath again, he could live again, but outside nothing has changed.

When he lay his head against Sansa's door, he would amuse himself with all these scenarios of him and Sansa having a different life, growing up as cousins.

He could love her then.

While a man would never marry his aunt, cousins married each other all the time. It would hardly be the first time.

"Jon? What are you doing here like that? You missed your room, you know…" he suddenly heard Sansa's voice.

He looked at her standing in front of him I the hall, wearing one of her many beautiful dresses, looking as regal as always.

But her eyes were tiered.

"Why are you not asleep?" he asked her.

Sansa smiled. Jon rarely saw her smile since they got Winterfell back. This made this moment precious to him.

"You are standing outside my room with your head against my door, and your asking me why I am awake when it's you who should answer me?"

Right.

Ever so slowly, Jon stepped away from her door.

Without saying a word, Sansa passed through him and opened it.

He was sure she would close the door to her room in his face, leaving him standing there like the lost puppy Ghost used to be so many years ago, but she kept the door open.

"Are you coming in or not?" He shouldn't. But his legs worked themselves and he strode over in quick, big steps and closing the distance between him and her door.

He closed it behind him and looked it her. He had no idea how long they just stood there, in her room, looking at each other.

"Well? No Dragon Queen tonight?" she asked. Jon shock his head.

"Sansa…" his words choked in his throat. He wanted to say – what did he want to say? Anything to make it alright again, he wanted this one time to be the time where once in his life he said the right thing to Sansa, and she would finally understand-

"Is this about the meeting we had today, Jon? Because I have no wish to keep discussing it with you any longer."

"I don't wish to discuss it with you either."

"Of course you don't. My words no longer mean anything in the eyes of the Dragon Queen whom you gave the north to." Jon closed his eyes.

Again, he had said the wrong thing.

He always said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing with her, even when he was right.

"That's not what I meant, Sansa," he whispered. He couldn't fight with her anymore; he didn't have the strength.

"Then what did you mean, Jon? Why are you here? I've had a long day of work; I wish to rest. Tomorrow is a big day." She said, dismissing him.

I'm sorry, he wanted to say. But he's not good at apologies.

I love you. But he's not good at saying love words either.

He's just not good with words.

_I bend the knee and gave away the north because I love you._ He wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," was all he said to her.

"I know." Her words gave away nothing. They almost never do anymore.

"You should rest." He said.

"I know that too." Sansa whispered to him. Her voice was now more gentle, as if she herself was tiered of scolding him too.

Somehow, he had no idea how, he found himself laying above her furs in her bed, while she covered herself up, ready to sleep.

She didn't sleep though.

They laid against each other, seeking – he didn't know what it was she seeking in him – but he knew what he wanted.

He wouldn't say he's sorry.

She wouldn't say that too.

But his hands touch her hair, just barely, brushing it away from her face and she looked at him, really looked at him.

He missed her eyes.

I'm not your brother. He wanted to say, but he wouldn't say it when Daenerys was still alive. Probably will never say it.

He kissed her cheek lightly before getting up and leaving her alone in her dark room.

_I bend the knee and gave away the north because I love you, but you'll never know that._


	2. Note

Hey guys! 

So, I saw a lot of you wrote comments and started fighting in my comment section so I just have to say it, so you'll just have to bare with me:

I dont know why people write fic on this website and update them. I dont know why other people do that. But I do know why I'm doing it and honestly it has nothing to do with any fandom, movie, book, TV show or character. 

I'm doing this because I want to hone my skills and become a better writer. 

This is why I'll happily exept comments about how my charcters/writing/storyline could be better (there's a way to comment about this stuff without of course hurting anyone' feelings) and of course everyone likes to see a good comment too, they never hurt. 

But if you _don't_ like this fandom, then you have no business strolling around it's pages - and god knows there's a lot of these pages, I'm hardly the first or the last to update a fic in this fandom - and you certenly have no business reading my fic, I really don't get why you're here if you don't like it. 

So, in my house, my grandmother used to say to me that sometimes if you have nothing of use to say, you better not say anything at all. And commenting about how much you think this fandom sucks isn't of use not to me and not to those who acually enjoyed it. 

I wanted to make this website a place for me where I can simply write, and seeing all these comments about not liking Jon/Samsa really just hurts my feelings and makes me angry. You dont have to like it. But you also dont have to comment. 

People tend to forget that words have power and at the end of the day, it takes a lot of courge (at least for me) to update something I wrote from the depth of my heart because it feels personal to me. 

When you read my fics, you read me. And I'd love to get better, I really would, it's what I'm here for, but not like this.

I hope you understand why I wrote this, and please take it into a considration. 

Thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> The song's name is "Unspoken" (obviously) by Welshly Arms. 
> 
> Look it up it's really good :)


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